Glimpses: The Scribe of the Dwarves
by Josephine Girard
Summary: Not only Elves and Men have been gifted with foresight. A young scribe in the Company of Thorin Oakenshield has been given a glimpse of the future and is unwilling to tell his friends about their contents. Go easy on me, it's my first shot at fanfiction. All reviews welcome!
1. The Mirkwood Gloom and the Elven Damsel

Kíli kept his eyes on the stars he could barely see above the thick foliage, and hunting them down was his trick that kept him awake while on shift. He couldn't talk with Fíli: everyone would wake up. They were sleeping so restlessly these days.

His daily confident swagger got past no one, he knew. Not even their burglar was fooled by his offhand demeanor of the forest. Mirkwood. Just the name filled him with dread, he reflected as he decided to sharpen his dagger to the firelight, as another way to keep his eyes open. Fíli just looked on approvingly as he found a stone near their campfire to sharpen his dwarven dagger, which he pulled from the arsenal of weapons beside him.

It was then that he noticed the little restless body closest to the flames; Ori shuffled in his sleep uncomfortably. But as Kíli stared closely he could see his eyes open anxiously. Kíli looked at his brother, as he always did when he took any decision, regardless its importance. Fíli nodded encouragingly, and they both leaned towards the younger dwarf.

"Ori, you should be sleeping," started Fíli, and Kíli rolled his eyes. Was that the best beginning he could say?

"I can't. There's no difference between night and day here," he confessed, his nasal voice somber and grim.

Kíli sighed. "Yes, but it's about your strength. You know how our uncle demands us to travel through Mirkwood the fastest we can."

"I don't find comfort in dreams," he admitted. "There's no rest in slumber now."

At this point he looked up to the sky hopelessly. "You know how Bilbo described the sky and the valley and Mirkwood from above the trees?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake don't torture us with that," interjected Fíli, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "We all need sunlight back! To think there would ever be a day a dwarf would not like the dark," he added; the bitterness he had acquired through the days in the dark forest mingled in words.

"I also..." then he looked down, uneager to follow.

"Yes, go on," prompted Kíli cheerfully to Ori.

Ori took a deep breath, and then exhaled with such intensity the brothers looked at each other in surprise. What could Ori think that made him so nervous to speak?

Finally Ori looked to his left; to the direction of the stream; and began.

"Have you ever heard of premonitions happening, you know, not among Elves or Men?" he stammered, now visibly cringing at his words in embarrassment.

Fíli and Kíli looked at each other again: Fíli's narrowed in suspicion (as should have been sensible among them) and Kíli's wide in amazement.

"Premonitions, Ori? You surely don't mean-?"

"I mean every word," he answered. His voice rang with anger at their disbelief. Fíli's initially distrustful glances changed to puzzled ones.

"Why-why are you telling us? Why not Dori or Nori?" asked Kíli, concerned over this. Premonitions? It was utterly ridiculous.

"They concerned you!" he whispered fearfully.

"W-w-what were they about?" began Fíli.

Ori looked cornered, and Kíli did his best to encourage him to speak.

"First, the company was in a much lighter part of this wood. But we were weak and frail and we were cornered by elves in a blink of an eye. Bilbo wasn't with us. It was then when we were imprisoned by a pale elf king. Our jailer was an elf maiden with a face that anyone might die for, but mercilessly drove us to cells. And then Kíli began to speak with her. I couldn't listen," he confessed.

"What?" More baffled he could not be. Kíli looked incredibly silly.

Ori said nothing. «He praised her red hair, her alluring eyes, her ferocity in combat, as she had been among her kinsmen that had captured us. She ignored his every word, the heartless viper» he would later scribble down on his journal.

"And then..." and Ori's expression turned from grave to fearful.

"Yes?" prompted Kíli, still curious and inconsiderate of Ori's fright. Fíli immediately prodded his brother's shin sharply, giving him a warning look.

Ori sighed. "There was a battle. A horrible war. I was among our archers, but I could see everything perfectly. Thorin lay wounded on the ground, you madly defended him as best as he could," he gasped, turning to Fíli. "Kíli was rushing to save you both, and I heard lines of Elvish I couldn't understand. It was then when everything stopped for a moment and our burglar, who stood at the top of the Lonely Mountain, had the Arkenstone at its feet, and his dagger in his hands. He closed his eyes and..."

Fíli and Kíli looked at him utterly taken aback.

"You don't mean he broke-!" exclaimed Kíli. His alarm was so evident one could easily tell he believed Ori.

Fíli, as dumbfounded as he was, proceeded to talk logically. "Are you sure it was the Arkenstone?" he asked.

Ori nodded vigorously. "It looked just like Thorin described it. It was absolute perfection, shining like a star itself."

Kíli finally closed his mouth, and then continued speaking. "And then what happened?" They had forgotten the words of their uncle's plight after being told of the Arkenstone's faith.

"I wanted to look closer at the battle, but when Bilbo broke the Arkenstone it shined so potently I could only see him put on a ring that rendered him a shadow before my sight was consumed by the light of the Arkenstone," ended Ori grimly. "And then I felt like I was struck from behind, and felt sick until I woke up."

Fíli remained silent for a minute, taking it all in. "Are you sure this wasn't just a dream?"

"I never dream like that! Recently, it's all been about..." and his voice trailed off in embarrassment.

Fíli knew what this was about. "You still dream of the wargs. So do I, occasionally," confessed Fíli, his words friendly.

"We all do," agreed Kíli sadly with his brother. Ori had a lot to relieve in nightmares, they easily agreed later. With him about to fall off the tree.

"Should we tell Thorin?" asked Ori timidly. Once again the brothers looked for each other's approval.

"I-I don't know," stammered Fíli.

"He might find the information about a war useful, and about the elves taking us prisoner. But about the Arkenstone...I think he might harm Bilbo," said Kíli absentmindedly, his thoughts now busied upon the bewitching elf maid, and smiled faintly.

"He will not," said a deep, resonating voice behind them, and Ori cringed as the figure behind them came more clearly into view-Thorin.

He did not look angry, only stern as usual and somewhat disappointed. He kneeled before the fire beside Ori, and looked at him compassionately. Ori's eyes widened.

"Have you had any of these before?" asked Thorin softly to Ori, who shook his head.

Thorin looked conflicted, and took a stick on the ground and started poking at the fire. Normally, Thorin himself would have snapped at whoever dared touch the fire, which had the tendency to go out in Mirkwood. "I wouldn't pay any attention to these dreams, Ori. Troubling, yes; but prophetic…? Can you describe the elven king, Ori?"

"He…he wore a crown of silver and leaves, he was tall, haughty, of equally silver hair."

Thorin's expression darkened visibly at this sentence. "You have described Thranduil perfectly," he said quietly, in contrast to his perturbed look. Fíli and Kíli both eyed Ori nervously.

"Do you know any elf damsels of red hair?" asked Ori after a pause.

Thorin shook his head, but he soured even more at the word elf. "The imprisonment could be simply a dream about Rivendell turned nightmare," he deduced in a cold tone, "and as for the battle…I wouldn't pay attention to these dreams, Ori."

With this advice, the dwarf stood majestically and, after a hopeful glance upward for a bit of the sky, turned to his nephews. "I believe your watch has ended. Whose turn is it?"

"Bofur's and…Bifur's," said Fíli promptly. Kíli now looked hesitant to sleep, but Fíli gave him a reproaching glare, telling him to stop thinking about Ori's words.

Thorin made irritated grunt. "Bombur. That clumsy—"

"It wasn't his fault," groaned Bofur a few feet from them, as Fíli shook him. "His size wasn't exactly helpful for crossing the stream," he groaned. "Who wakes Bifur?"

The sibling looked at each other. "You do?"

"Oh, he won't attack you," complained Bofur, but still groggy.

It was a few minutes until everyone took their place at the campfire, and when Kíli sat beside Fíli, he looked around furtively. Making sure Ori, was asleep, Kíli whispered to his brother, "Do you really believe what he said?"

Fíli grimaced, unsure of what to say. He did; every word, but what was he to say?

"No. Not in the least," he assured him.


	2. Western Meadows by Fiddles and Flutes

Bofur's hat bobbed as he playing his flute, and although the dwarves weren't as cheerful and loud as they were at Bag End, but as Bofur spend into a ridiculously fast solo they encouraged him loudly to go faster and faster. Bilbo couldn't help but smile at Bofur's concentrated face, and finally he ended the piece with an incredibly high-pitched note, and the dwarves shouted and clapped.

Bilbo nodded to Bofur, pleased with the piece; although it him homesick. The melody could have belonged back at the Green Dragon, even if he hadn't visited the tavern much lately. Bofur began to take bows to every dwarf in the audience, laughing as he did so.

"Another one!" called out Nori enthusiastically, which wasn't very common in him. Bilbo smiled, expecting another wild dashing song like the past one. Bofur took a bow in front of the fire, and let out a surprised exclamation when his hat fell off into the fire. "A-argh!" He took it by the seams before any real damage could be done, but by then everyone was roaring with laughter. Bofur flashed a grin, as if he had planned that long ago. Bifur grunted encouragingly, and seeing his cousin so amused even when they were all starving, he took a final bow and grasped his flute for another tone.

"There you go, Bofur!" exclaimed Glóin. But as he was putting his flute to his lips, he paused and then placed the flute in his lap.

"I think," he said slowly, to the dwarfs' complaints, "that it's a violin I need for this particular song."

The dwarfs roared in agreement and turned to Fíli and Kíli, who laughed at the suggestion.

"Which one of us?" asked Fíli, smiling for the first time since Beorn's homely house.

"Both!" called out Ori loudly; grinning ear to ear. The rest chimed in, and instantly they went to their packs in search for their violins. Bilbo tilted his head in confusion.

"Is this a song widely known?"

"Oh, no," accounted Balin to Bilbo. "This is a popular dwarven tune for violin and flute. It's also a song."

"Ori's favorite," added Dori fondly, and the rest laughed merrily at the embarrassed Ori.

"It's in khûzdul. It's a ridiculous nonsense about a lovesick dwarf, but it's funny and very popular," insisted Kíli, who now returned with his red fiddle alongside his brother. Ori smiled knowingly, thinking of Kíli's attitude about love would turn out to be ironic. Kíli began to tune, and a few jeered jokingly.

"Make way for the real dwarf!" hooted out Dwalin as Fíli made his way beside Bofur with his own violin tucked under his arm. Kíli ignored the jests as he continued tweaking the pegs to achieve a proper note. Finally, he was pleased with the strings and nodded to Bofur and Fíli.

Bilbo, who wanted to understand the lyrics, went beside Ori for help. "Would you...c-could you translate the song for me, Ori?" asked Bilbo politely.

Ori seemed to sour for a single moment, and then nodded gladly. "Definitely!" he chirped.

Dwalin shushed them rudely. "Quiet! They're going ter start!"

The melody began quickly enough with Bofur playing some jaunty, low notes, and then Kíli began to play the main tune nimbly and loudly. The dwarves started to chant alongside the fiddler, and Fíli joined in merrily with a similar line of notes that intertwined with both Kíli's and Bofur's. It was fast-paced, brisk and happy, and Bilbo couldn't help but smile at the words that Ori whispered to him quickly. Then the violins faded to be company as it was Bofur's turn for a solo, and the song became incredibly loud. Ori smiled, feeling safe for an instant despite the hunger and the dark. It was like they were back at Bag End, singing merrily at an irritated Mr. Not-Burglar Baggins. Fíli now took the spotlight in the song, and the dwarves stopped singing, apparently this being an instrument part. Finally Fíli ended his part, and Bofur took the chorus energetically. The dwarves began to sing again, this time Ori himself joining the merrymaking gladly, and although poor Bilbo was left with a translator he remembered the words of the chorus from the first time and smiled as seeing little Ori sing along with the rest gleefully. Bilbo was even surprised to see Bifur doing his best to event grunt along, and soon everyone conscious but Bilbo was singing at the top of their lungs. Finally, Fíli tried to cut in for a final solo; but Kíli, absolutely enthralled in the music, was already taking his place, and the dwarves fell silent at the abnormally fevered tempo at which he was playing. Even Bilbo could tell this was some wild improvisation he had cooked up for himself; and with a few triumphant chords, finished his reverie, and the dwarves called out in approval fervently.

Kíli took off his violin and motioned to his two friends to take a bow. As Fíli tried to take off his own, he struggled for a moment, his beard having caught in the shoulder rest, and they laughed. Once he did he bowed with an exaggerated flourish of his hand, and more cheers followed him. Bofur made sure his hat was on properly and inclined for a bow of his own.

When the ruckus had finally died down, Ori called out, "More!" This was met with more laughter than cheers, but in the end they all demanded for more. Fíli and Kíli looked at each other sheepishly.

"Which song?"

"Oh, any old song!" yelled Dori in encouragement.

"What's the fastest you know?" asked Bilbo.

Kíli lifted an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge, Mr. Baggins? You hear that, Fíli?" he turned to his brother with a grin.

"I certainly have. Answer the question, Bilbo," said Fíli with a sly sideways glance to Bilbo, who looked absolutely baffled by their excitement. The dwarves laughed in unison at his confusion.

"They're going to play this fiddle duet, laddie," explained Balin kindly.

Bilbo's eyes widened as he registered the words. "Not 'Western Meadows'!" he exclaimed, recognizing the song fron celebrations at the Shire.

"You think that what comes out of the Shire stays in it? No, everybody knows that melody!" It was then when Fíli began playing the first notes that everyone was silent, and a smile slowly spread across Bilbo's face, remembering his youth perfectly: nights at the Green Dragon drinking ale and dancing with girls. Kíli soon joined in and even though it was supposed to be accompanied by words no one sung anything and instead listened closely to the duet. It was a dance song, but what dance could be found here? Then Ori plucked up the courage and began to sing loudly.

"Here, in the western meadows, we sing of ale, we sing to plenty of our food...!"

"Here, in the western meadows, we sing of dance, and that does us good," joined in Bilbo in a crackly voice, not having sung since his tweens.

"And our pride and our inmost joy lies amongst our hills, and our songs and cheers..." chimed in a gladdened Bofur, grinning.

"Of lasses dancing to fiddlers' tunes, of their golden hair, as gold as all of our most excellent beers!" chanted the rest.

As the song went on and on the two brothers exchanged musical lines quite easily, but just when it was going to be Kíli's solo, while the dwarves roared along, a string burst. Kíli cried out as the string lashed out towards his face, but managed to pull the violin off his shoulder before any damage could be done. The company laughed as Kíli grimaced at the close shave he had just had. By then the enthusiasm of the song had drifted away...and, when Bilbo turned around impulsively, a solemn-looking Thorin was approaching them. It was an almost too sudden change, as the dwarves became quiet and respectful in Thorin's presence. Bilbo honestly thought it all ridiculous when he wasn't there, but in his presence you understood the majesty and leadership he had and the control over his company. He kneeled before the packs, and everyone knew what he was going to retrieve: the harp. A lost relic of Erebor, its strings were an alloy of silver, steel and mithril, and would never rust nor get out of tune. It had also belonged to Thrór, Fíli had once confessed to Bilbo, and that was the reason Thorin prized it so highly. As Thorin took it out of the case Fíli and Kíli were discreet enough to put their own fiddles back in their cases, and Bofur hid his flute back in his coat pocket, smiling faintly; suspecting a piece of Thorin's own. The dwarves looked at each other uneasily and the only sound was the faint scratching of Ori's pen on his paper. As Bilbo turned to the young dwarf he could read over his shoulder and caught a few lines that described the harp closely, and beside it was an unfinished sketch of the instrument. Thorin began to pluck the strings and play a soft, sweet air Bilbo couldn't recognize, but the rest of the dwarves remained silent. Another peek over Ori's shoulder told him that the melody was called 'Mithril Strings' and had been composed by Thrór long before the dragon's arrival and before the king's lust of gold became insatiable. The hymn was slow and melancholic at first, then turned grand and august. Bilbo looked over to Ori's notebook for more information, but by then the little scribe was listening closely to the wordless song, his book open to the lyrics, which they were all mouthing but they dared not sing until Thorin did.

It was then when the miracle happened. Quite suddenly in the dark, a groan came from the packs; and all thirteen heads turned at the sound. Bofur was the first to react; standing and running towards his brother anxiously, agile for a dwarf. He kneeled beside him, Bombur beginning to stir, and looked at him anxiously.

"Come on, brother," he murmured, his voice thick with concern. The rest, Fíli and Kíli at their head, were now beginning to crowd around Bofur as uneasy as him. Bilbo just stared, thinking all Bombur would do was plop back to sleep, and he couldn't help envying his sleep. Bombur sat up groggily, and Bofur propped him up as he lifted his eyelids with difficulty, and after a few moments he jumped in surprise, and everyone but Thorin cried out.

"W-what?! Bofur! Bofur, where are we?" grunted Bombur. His eyes looked wildly around the forest, looking like he had never even been there. Bofur stuttered a reply, unsure of himself.

"W-well, we're in Mirkwood, Bombur...! Can't you remember-?"

"We were at the hobbit's house!" said Bombur bleakly. "Oh, why am I so hungry? Why did I ever wake up? I was dreaming such lovely dreams..." he sighed.

Bilbo was absolutely puzzled, and even more when he caught a glimpse of shy little Ori, who was looking at Fíli and Kíli in alarm. He narrowed his eyes; determined to ask him about this later. "What dreams?" asked Fíli, and Bilbo could detect the suspicion in his voice. Apparently, so did Thorin, who gave his nephew a warning glance. For what?

"Oh, of a feast in a wood like this one, with such excellent food...!" Everyone but Bofur, Bifur and Thorin gave a groan of exasperation. They were all so hungry, and Bilbo was the one who felt the hunger best.

"The important thing is, you're awake, Bombur," sighed Bofur, his face slackening in relief.

"No, it's not!" grumbled Bombur stubbornly. "Yesterday we were at the Hobbit's house; how are we in Mirkwood?!"

"You are right, Bofur," said Glóin distastefully as he stood in anger. "At least we don't have to carry him around." For once Bofur's expression soured, but said nothing against Glóin.

"We've come all the way from the Shire to Mirkwood. Can't you remember that?" insisted Bofur. His words strained in fear.

"No. No! All I know is that I'm hungry, so weak..." he moaned.

Bilbo turned around and looked at the direction of the stream with a grumpy look. "Why were you ever in our way!" he whispered furiously at the memory of the river. Apprehensive murmurs had now turned into full-blown arguments, but Thorin's sharp reprimands silenced them quickly enough.

"Enough! It is time for Óin and Glóin's shift, anyway! Let's have some rest," he rumbled menacingly, and everyone obeyed, except for Bofur who was still trying to convince Bombur of all that had happened. Bilbo went to the nearest place by the fire, by Óin and Glóin who were now avidly arguing whether Bombur's forgetfulness could be cured ("Has the apothecary ever been wrong?" "All the time!") but Bilbo paid no attention to them. After one last look at the uneasy gazes between Fíli, Kíli and Ori he turned his back to the fire and began to dream of the food he could have had back at Bag End, where there were daily planners for common forgetfulness.

* * *

_Here, in the western meadows, we sing of ale, and we sing of lavish homemade food  
__Here, in the western meadows, we sing of dance, and it does us good  
And our pride and inmost joy lies across our hills, and our songs and cheers  
Of lasses dancing to fiddlers' tunes, of golden hair, as gold as all of our most excellent beers!_

_Here, in the western meadows, we find that trouble belongs in other times and lands  
Here, in the western meadows, we like to dance and then join hands  
But all pilgrims that come stay, that have seen too much, and that crave for peace  
Wayfarers, welcome, to this abode, but first admit, to all that merriest music is bliss.  
And the moon that shines the sky will be the only fire we need to live  
And our blossoms be the only jewels that garnish our women, that's how we shall live  
Here, in the western meadows, we humbly welcome our friends to stay with us, listen and sing!  
And the moon that shines the sky will be the only fire we need to live  
And our blossoms be the only jewels that garnish our women, that's how we shall live  
Here, in the western meadows, we humbly welcome our friends, listen and drink!  
_

_Here, in the western meadows, of beryl grasses, we sing with rustic old guitars  
Here, in the western meadows, under the pearl moon and silver stars  
We sing of orchards, of things that grow, and of plains that reach right throughout our home  
We travelers sworn, oh so long ago, forevermore, that we were never ever 'gain to roam.  
And all the stars that glow shall feel our own  
And all the roads won't tempt ever to leave home  
Here, in the western meadows, of beryl grasses, we sing with rustic old guitars  
Here, in the western meadows, under the pearl moon and silver stars  
We sing of orchards, of things that grow, and of plains that reach right throughout our home  
We travelers sworn, oh so long ago, forevermore, that we were never ever 'gain to roam.  
Here, in our western meadows, we will live blithe, we will live glad to be here  
Here, in our western meadows, we will take peace as its own reward  
As for adventures, they'll come in time, but we'll stay and dance while we wait for those  
As for our love, and reason to live, it's all over here, in meadows to work and the rivers so clear._

_Thorin sat in a place of honor, as befit him, at the table of the Master of Lake-town. Two chairs were empty beside him, and as I turned to look for the missing occupants, Fíli and Kíli, Ori was tempted to join the merrymaking at the foot of the table. Lake-town is a city of commerce, not of royalty, and so the only one who thought himself too dignified for the dance was the Master and some of his attendants. Other than that, in the hall danced men and women of all ages who had come to his feast. Bofur was a center of attention, and was next to the musicians tooting his flute happily. 'Western Meadows' had just ended, and now the men, slightly drunk, began hooting for their favorites. Of the company, Bifur, Balin, Dwalin, Thorin, and Bilbo still sat at the table, either too regal to dance or too old. As for Bilbo, Ori suspected it was the cold that made him unable to enjoy the feast._

_Then the musicians began to play a lively tune that I couldn't recognize, but the men all cheered as if it was their favorite. _

_"Come one, Ori!" called Nori, who was standing beside him, and swept him off to the dancers. He disliked it when his siblings encouraged him to do anything. Only Fíli, Kíli or Bofur could get him to go on willingly. He followed unwillingly, nevertheless, and as Nori pushed past the tall Men ("Watch where you're going little Master Dwarf!") he found his way to his friends. Bofur had left the musicians, not knowing how to play this particular piece, and alongside the younger siblings, joined the drinking men by the tables. A smile spread across Ori's face as he dashed to the tables. _

_"Here's a mug for ye!" exclaimed Bofur as he handed him a pint. A young man beside them counted to three, and Ori easily knew it was a drinking game, and drank eagerly as soon as the word was given._

_It was then when Fíli's and Kíli's eyes widened uneasily at three approaching strangers in men's garb. One, when the hood had been pushed back, revealed to be the red-haired elf woman who had captured them back in Mirkwood._

_Fíli immediately stepped forward in anger, but Kíli instead pushed his brother back and welcomed the lady with kind words. Ori couldn't understand why he was being so courteous to her. The woman scoffed his greeting, and with the rest of her elven folk, approached the table of the Master and began to ask questions of the company, claiming they were strangers apprehended by the guard of Mirkwood when they had intruded in their territory. Thorin stood and defied her words valiantly, and at the Master's hesitation Ori placed his mug back on the table quietly, sure they were about to be dragged off to Thranduil's dungeons once again. Fíli patted his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him, although he didn't look too sure himself; partly because of the drink, partly because of fear._

_Instead, the Master faced the elf woman, and refused to hand over the "prisoners" with a greedy glint in his eyes. Ori's eyes narrowed at the fat old man and nearly took a step forward, only to be stopped by Fíli, who noticed the indignation in his face._

_The elf woman was not satisfied with the answer, but with the threat of being turned out of doors she complied, her face flushing in anger. She turned to her companions and made their way to the rest of the crowd. Fíli turned towards his brother and tried to grab his shoulder, but it was too late, and Kíli rushed to the elf impulsively. Ori widened his eyes and looked down, knowing Thorin would have a say in this. _

_Bofur took a discreet sip of his mug._

_The dancing resumed, although slowly, and a red-eyed Fíli put down his sixty-second mug on the table. He had been taunted more than once by the men and was determined to show his mettle-through the drink. Ori had already left the table as he had lost interest when three of the other participants had dropped on the floor dead drunk. Bofur had taken to a group of roguish men, and he was telling an extremely exaggerated tale of a battle he had never been in but described as accurately as he had been the general of the dwarves' armies. But as he was about to step forward in the crowd to listen closer he was distracted by the dancers, that had gotten themselves into some organized form and now ended a blithe rag that had lifted everyone's spirits after the elves' interventions. It was then when he made out the figure of the elven woman, who was glaring at him pointedly, but was distracted by the interrupting sound of a fiddle. Kíli had taken to the musicians and now played a solo of his own invention, and being skilled at improvisations, the others followed his lead to the dwarf's tune. The elf still wasn't the least impressed, but her head was now turned to Kíli willingly and not out of nagging. He played quicker, but slowed down for the rest of the musicians to end with him._

_Kíli whispered to the rest of the band, and they agreed heartily with whatever they had said, as he stepped off to the dancers and bowed to the lady chivalrously. She scoffed but then, after searching that her companions weren't around her, took his hand and once the band began with the piece, a lyrical and fast paced _divertimento_, they danced, uncomfortably due to Kíli's size. Stiffly at first, she flinched at his every touch, then began to trust his movements more as the piece progressed, and Ori even caught a glimpse of her smile more than once. Ori looked for Thorin at the table, and his expression was so murderous and sour he turned and instead watched the two dance some more. Then a flute joined in the band, along with a fiddle, and Ori could tell both Fíli and Bofur had joined the musicians, supporting Kíli in his ridiculous quest. Ori grinned in spite of everything, and couldn't help but laugh when Bofur started to sound off-key due to of drink._

_The tune became more bright, and ended with a final flourish from the rest of the musicians._

**Thank you for the reviews I've gotten. Should I feel inspired or should I be encouraged to I might go on. The playlist (in my head) for this chapter has been:**

**1) Fionnuala's Cookie Jar  
2) Elan  
3) Invitation  
4) Lament for a Frozen Flower  
5) The Rap  
6) Divertimento  
(All by Secret Garden. The lyrics of Western Meadows are set to Invitation.)**

**Thank you once more!**


	3. Poison Deep in Shadows and Dreams

Their pace was slow and weak; none of them had eaten a thing in two days. Ori had seen several shows of selflessness throughout this past week: Bofur giving Bombur his last remains of food, Dwalin relinquishing his shares to Balin, who was the eldest and therefore would take lack of food the worst, Óin giving Dori some because since he had given Nori (for the first time in decades) and Ori his he needed to keep up his strength. Thorin, Fíli and Kíli were the ones that were taking it best; the two last being young and Thorin thinking himself too good for complaining. If only Ori could be like that...! Right now he gnashed his teeth and strode on absently trying not to groan and double over. He shouldn't have been so weak! He was young, the same age as Kíli! Why did it have to hurt so much? Apparently he wasn't the only one whose hunger was driving them mad. Their burglar's face was set grimly in a deathly determined expression. Bofur kept chewing on his pipe anxiously despite having run out of tobacco long before having run out of food. Balin looked weary, while he never did: not after the goblins, not after the eagles, not even yesterday. But today he looked frail and faint, and Dwalin was kind enough to help him up when he fell. The only one that wasn't keeping his hunger to himself was Bombur, and even mild-mannered Ori was fed up with his protests.

"I can't, I can't," he kept sobbing; and in a wail, he said, "I need to lie down. I'm not as used to this as you are!"

Thorin stopped in his tracks, and everyone knew what was coming. "Uncle," started Fíli as he tried to clutch Thorin's elbow, but he shrugged it off sharply and turned with a perfectly murderous look on his face. Ori backed away fearfully when Thorin crossed his way, and instinctively hung on to Dori when he shuffled past the dwarves.

"You came, along with your brother and cousin, to this quest, no matter the hardships. Your presence at Bag End showed your commitment to the Company," growled Thorin almost savagely to the fatter dwarf.

"Which I barely remember. Could I take it back, I would!" shot back Bombur defiantly, and Bofur beside him shook him to see if he could say some sense.

"Is that so?"

"He doesn't mean it!" interrupted Bofur, his voice feeble and crackly.

"Then Erebor means nothing to you!" roared Thorin to Bombur.

"We are NOT on the way to Erebor! We are starving in the woods!" answered Bombur in despair.

Thorin took a step forward with every intention to strike him down, then recalled that despite his current affliction of forgetfulness, Bombur was still a dwarf in thirteen that had come when Dáin's armies did not. He had been loyal during his saner days, and it would be merciless to punish him. Instead, he grunted and turned back to the head of the dwarves.

"If he is not to walk he won't be helped," he concluded gruffly to the others.

"I won't!" declared Bombur, incredibly stubborn, as he sat down. "Go on, if you must! I'm just going to lie here and sleep and dream of food, if I can't get it any other way. I hope I never wake up again."

It was heartbreaking to see poor old Bombur an absolute wreck, but above all, giving up on the quest. Ori winced when he heard the usually light-hearted Bofur trying to coax him to stand, and then Balin's now languid voice interrupted them.

"What was that? I thought I saw a twinkle of light in the forest." Light? Ori looked around in confusion and exhaustion. They had given up on light oh so long ago. Yet, there it was! A glimmer somewhere among the trees. Bombur rushed among them to get towards the light, and as he said encouraging words on the lights Bofur tried to pull him from his hood and protested uselessly.

"A feast would be no good if we never got back alive from it," said Thorin haughtily, trying to maintain authority. Bombur answered back, but by then Ori was blocking out the conversations, only catching things like "raspberry tart" "imminent, unknown danger" and "starvation" (which promptly made his stomach growl wildly, and he refrained from complaining. He was not going to complain. He would be loyal to their-

"Come on, Ori," pleaded Nori gently, and he realized that he had been staring at the lights in longing, and when Thorin pointed towards the lights with a trembling finger, Ori was third to follow him. Bombur and then Bilbo had rushed first impatiently. Ori followed them, staggering wildly, and then Kíli and Fíli followed, more cautious than the others. It was some time before the distant lights became little more than glitter in the dark, and when they approached the shape of the fire in the middle of a circle of felled trees, and when Ori saw the elves eating and drinking he forgot his visions, that now seemed to be bad nightmares long past, he forgot Thorin's wretched accounts of their betrayal of Erebor. All he could think of was the food of putting food in his mouth, and at the scent of meat Ori lost it, stepping forward into the clearing with everyone following their own lead towards the elves.

* * *

Ori shivered once again out of the discomfort of hunger, but did not protest verbally. It was his shift, alongside Dori, and he had to take it on. After his last premonition he had lost his fear of sleep, and pleasant dreams like the past one would not be amiss right now, especially when it would help forget the torturous hunger pangs. Dori took notice of his discomfort and, thinking it was cold, took off his cape for the now protesting Ori, who refused to take it. It was then when the elder brother looked above Ori to something that delighted him.

"The lights are coming out, and there are more than ever of them," he called out loudly to the mass of sleeping dwarves.

Apart from Bombur, everyone was roused in a few instants, and even he was convinced at the mention of lights again. Once they had approached the lights and laughter that seemed to go with them, Thorin stopped Bombur from leaping forward into the crowd of elves that came with the lights. Then he motioned Bilbo to go on, and the hobbit looked offended.

"No rushing this time! No one is to stir from hiding till I say. I shall send Mr. Baggins alone first to talk to them. They won't be frightened of him" (at this point the poor burglar's face was full of disbelief) "and any way I hope they won't do anything nasty to him." Ori forced a guilty smile when Fíli was the first one to assume his uncle's lack of compassion and push the poor hobbit into the clearing.

The darkness that stamped out the light was so sudden it might have been more powerful than a spark in the dark. At least Ori, despite not being very well at telling where anything was in the dark he knew that Dori was still beside him, that none of the dwarves had moved. There was only one person whose position was unaccounted for, and that was Bilbo.

"Bilbo?" called out Bofur tentatively. There was no answer. "Bilbo!"

The dwarves began to speak all at once trying to tell whether Bilbo was beside any of them. "Bilbo! Bilbo!"

"Where could he have gone to? It took us an eternity to find ourselves after that first blaze," grumbled Dori.

"Please tell me you know anything about what is happening," said Kíli's voice behind him. He turned around in astonishment; partly because he hadn't know Kíli was there, and partly because he was hurt Kíli would blab about his secret to Dori.

"What is he talking about, Ori?" asked Dori.

"Why me? I know the same as you as to what is happening!" snapped Ori to Kíli, although his voice was now right beside him.

"No? I'm sorry, then," he answered, but Ori could tell he wasn't sorry at all. It took a long time tentatively looking in the gloom, but the burglar was simply not appearing.

"Curse that hobbit! Now we're burglarless-!" began Dori, then he cried out when he tripped with a log, and Ori helped him up when he could now tell what he had tripped with. "It's Bilbo! Bilbo!" cried out Dori to the fallen burglar, but he was fast asleep and curled on the ground. He groaned, and now all the dwarves gathered around and were relieved that the burglar had shown some sign of life. Thorin sighed. But the hobbit left out an angry moan. Something was wrong.

"I was having a lovely dream all about having a most gorgeous dinner." Everyone groaned in total exasperation.

Ori ignored their complaints as Kíli nudged him and pointed to a fire a few feet away, and he called: "There's a regular blaze of light not far away-hundreds of torches and many fire must have been lit suddenly and by magic. And hark to the singing and harps!"

Music. If there was one more torturous vanishing, Ori thought, he would go insane. Ori stepped forward and approached the lights and noticed his companions all doing the same thing, hypnotized by the light, warmth, food and music. And when they finally took a good look at the feast they were astonished. The guests were elves bedecked in jewels fair and leaves emerald, with such lavish and sumptuous food it was mouthwatering, not to mention heartbreaking. At the head was the Elvenking Ori had seen in that dream, crowned with flowers and silver. But when Thorin stepped forward, the darkness was so absolute the king's face could have been easily been erased from existence.

* * *

After a few moments of flailing around wildly and calling out the first names he thought of, Ori finally got a grip on himself-and on his slingshot, which he grabbed and took out impulsively and aimed at the darkness. Slowly, he got used to seeing just the very faint outlines of trees, the small breaks of light about them, and stuck his slingshot back in his pocket. It would be useless where he couldn't aim at anything. Instead, he placed his hand on the long-handed mace Fíli had lent him ever since they had lent Beorn's home, and bitterly remembered the food they had been given. His stomach rumbled once again, but he no longer cared as much about food if there was danger, and he had mysteriously gotten energy from nowhere. he looked around furtively in fear, and began to grope around in the darkness with his left hand. Nothing. In his desperation he began calling out even louder than before. "Nori! Dori! Bilbo! Thorin! Fíli! Kíli! Bofur!" He suppressed a whimper and instead strode onward, trying to find the path. That was what they had tried to do the first time they had gotten lost.

But it was still thirty minutes of trudging along into the darkness when he began to listen to the faint clacking noise. His grip on the mace became tighter and tighter until the clacking had diminished somewhat far off to the right, at least a mile from him. Then a rustling noise replaced it, like the sound of someone staggering and dashing through the woods. And the faint moan that came from the shadow Ori recognized instantly.

"Nori! Nori!" he called out, and rushed towards his brother, who was panting heavily. "Nori, what's wrong? Have you seen the others? Nori!"

"Ori!" Nori sounded absolutely exhausted, but then his tone became alarmed and fierce. "We have to be ready, they're coming!"

As Nori fell to the ground Ori kneeled beside him, and noticed the strange glints that covered him. "What is coming? Why are you bleeding?"

The clacking sound became loud and audible suddenly, and Nori let out a terrified gasp. Nori who never showed fear, who was always doing something illegal. Ori lifted his mace and kept it ready for any assailant that came to them.

It was too late. From the shadows leaped an enormous eight-legged figure, and Ori lashed out with the mace just as it settled on his brother, who let out a strangled yell cut off by it.

Ori whimpered, knowing that an interrupted shout like that could only mean one thing. The spider, although temporarily stunned by the mace, instantly jumped on to him, and Ori's shrill screams reached no one, as he pulled out his dagger and began to fight against the monster. But the final attack was not frontal: instead, the stinger pierced him on his left side, and his last shriek was extinguished by the power of the spider-poison that filled his veins. His eyes looked up as they turned glassy and dim for a single glance at the sky.

* * *

_The halls of their guest house they had been given generously by the Esgaroth men echoed easily, and Ori could easily hear the heated argument as if he was right beside the fighters, and it was painful to hear the words, which were harsh and directed at each other as carefully directed as a dagger through the ribs. He was beside the door of the room where it was happening, and a dreading Fíli was beside him, as pierced by the words as the second party, which was mostly silent._

_"You care nothing about your bloodline not only by fraternizing with the enemy of your race, your family and your self, since they imprisoned us, starved us and tried to extract our secrets, but by actually disgracing us all, revealing the objective of our quest to a bewitching elf woman!"_

_"Tauriel had her orders!"_

_"Don't speak of her by name! She is just one of the scheming vermin that abandoned us while our homes was in ruins, and never lifted a finger aiding us construct a new home!"_

_"She was not there!"_

_"Well, then, what will you say of the display in Mirkwood, Kíli? You traitorous, dishonoring boy! I am glad that if I fall, a proper dwarf would take my place, a dwarf that knows that anyone that befriends the elves is no more lying, vile and heartless than them!" _

_His bellows affected Fíli deeply, as his already horrified face sagged even more than before._

_Kíli would not answer._

_"You have nothing to say for yourself?"_

_"Only that I will follow whatever order or punishment you deem best for this betrayal," answered Kíli heavily._

_A sharp noise hit their ears, and Fíli and Ori looked at each other in disbelief at the sound._

_"Go," ordered Thorin wearily. "I should not have striked you. You and I are of the line of Durin, and I should act like one even when you haven't. You would have remained here until we conquered the mountain in other days, or kept from your share of gold. But if it rests with me you shall be exiled of Erebor once the quest is over and payment done," declared Thorin sternly._

_At this point Fíli could no more; and he walked towards the door despite Ori's warnings and burst into the room in indignation._

_"Fíli? What is this?"_

_"You would do him an injustice if you banished him, Thorin. This wasn't calculated betrayal, this was the foolishness of youth and love."_

_"Hey!"_

_"Even more reason, because a foolhardy young boy is only a danger to his own side. We should never make it to Erebor if he continued like this," pointed out Thorin. _

_"Have you forgotten of Ori's testimony? We shall need Kíli-"_

_"I remember his words all too well. I should have listened to his words more carefully. He predicted his fascination with that elf and our imprisonment."_

_"You should believe his other words. We will see battle, and we will need each other," replied Fíli._

_Thorin sighed once more. "I am a failure to my heritage if I show mercy, but I will. Go."_

* * *

_"Thorin was being ridiculous by trying to banish Kíli. Really, what's the harm of the elves? I know they locked us up and will probably want their share in our treasure and all that, but the lad was happy," Bofur commented as he took his pipe out of his mouth, then exhaled. _

_Bombur grunted. "Yes, he was, but elves aren't even very attractive." _

_"So yes, I prefer my women with more hair, but they were basically made for each other..." _

_"Because Kíli only has stubble instead of a beard? Well, maybe so," laughed Bombur, then began to look around the packs for something to eat. "Is there anything else to eat than cram?" _

_"You know there is," rebuked Bofur when Bombur stuck his hand in a pack, and slapped it. "We're saving the better food for later. We don't want to end up eating cram while we're surrounded by mountains of gold, now, do you?" _

_"No," replied Bombur, although he looked like he really did. _

_"And it's not much about the beard," resumed Bofur after taking another smoke. _

_"Then what is about? The archery?" boomed his brother. _

_Bombur looked up to the steep cliff they had to climb to reach the Mountain, and sighed. "I really want to go up there." _

_"You said it yourself. You'd trip on your beard or the rope would break and we would be thirteen again," recalled Bofur. He was looking up the cliff wistfully too, despite having come up once or twice. "And it's not about the archery, either. It's not like you married your wife because she was a cook too," continued Bofur. _

_"I didn't, but I have better taste in women than Kíli, anyway," answered Bombur succinctly. He shivered from the wintry cold the wind carried, and pulled his hood over his head at the breeze. But at the sudden violent gale that struck them both they looked at each other in alarm. Their rocky glen would never have wind that blew this furiously...or warmly. At a not so faraway roar they jumped and immediately stood. _

_It was a dragon's. _

_And an even more frightening sound made them tumble to the rope they had placed for transportation: rocks breaking apart, and a whooshing noise they instinctively knew it was dragon fire. _

_"Help!" called out Bofur loudly, but there seemed to be no one on the other side of the rope. "Smaug is coming here! Lift me up!" He offered the rope to Bombur, who shook his head, and instead tied it around his waist quickly. The roars of the dragon became louder and wilder, and a faint sizzling sound could now be heard. Its footsteps echoed about the valley, and Bombur let out an involuntary whimper of fear. _

_"Help!" called out Bofur once again, now looking even more afraid than when he had been cornered by spiders. The dragon's clamor became louder by the second, and even Bofur whined as he tried to hold on to the cliff walls to ascend, but only made it six steps before falling again. "Help!" And when the shape of the dragon came out of the caves, all both of the brothers could do was widen their eyes and fear for their lives._

* * *

__**I apologize for the late update, I've been a bit busy. I would like to thank all those who reviewed, faved and followed. Out of interest, I would like you to answer this question: Which dwarf do you want to see more? Who have I been neglecting the most that you care about?**


	4. Daring Escape and the King's Wine

The first thing that brought Bofur back to consciousness was the lack of air to breathe, and he gasped instinctively, which immediately brought him around. He opened his eyes-how exactly could they feel so heavy?-and jumped as he saw only a strange, thick white substance he instantly recognized as spider webs. Spider webs!

"Oh, Mahal-what-" he blurted out incoherently, and began to struggle with the stuff...he was encased in it too! Bofur took a moment to realize how he had gotten there, and recalled the monstrous spiders that had attacked Bombur and him (luckily, they hadn't been separated when the lights had gone out) with a start. First he kicked out ineffectively, but the web was too thick to be torn like that. He tried to turn his head, but he still felt so weak...which, of course, instantly reminded him of his hunger. He growled when he felt too stiff to turn-his hat! Where was his hat? Where was everyone else, for that matter? He shifted in his encasing again, and yelped when he felt himself to be far above the ground, probably hanging on a tree. His mouth was too dry and numb to call out any words, so he moaned out incomprehensibly for help. He would never admit to the incredible fear he felt-spiders! Bifur, before the accident, had once placed a spider inside his favorite hat when he was a child. He had still beaten him when Bofur had tried to get even, but Bifur hadn't meant wrong. Since then he disliked spiders deeply, but never felt frightened by them. That could change after this attack, though.

He felt pressure on the top of his bundle, and cried out in fear when he realized it was the tip of a gigantic spider leg. He wriggled and writhed desperately all he could to try and get the monster off him, but it wouldn't budge. He pushed his side of the net hard, but it wouldn't budge at all. Oh, if only he had had the sense of bringing a knife with him instead of only the mattock! It was probably lost somewhere in this demonic forest by now.  
Then he heard the first sound outside his cocoon, and he brightened at the vigor in it. It was a loud, muffled scream, and then a sharp kick. It could only be from one dwarf only-Bombur. His relief was short-lived as he realized that even though Bofur was alive he was as trapped as him. Then he flinched in loathing and cried out at the following noises: hissy laughter and words, as if spiders could speak. He uttered another unintelligible cry, in case Bombur or any of the other dwarves could listen to him. A spider leg poked him on the shoulder, which made him moan. Really, did they have to poke where they had stung him?

Then a lashing sound made him perk up. Was that a stone being thrown? If so, it was no spider doing so: it meant one of them was free! Bofur jerked around, hoping to attract the attention of whoever was out there. Rustling followed the noise, and Bofur squirmed even more as the spiders seemed to be climbing down the web his pod was attached to.  
The next sound heartened him greatly, and his fidgeting increased as his strength returned.  
"Old fat spider spinning in a tree! Old fat spider can't see me! Attercop! Attercop...!" By the end of the song the performer was no longer within earshot, but Bofur could easily tell who that was. Bilbo had gotten free! Most of them would have had doubts on depending on the burglar, but not Bofur. He had seen Bilbo's quickness in action at the wolves, and at the trolls. He could definitely rely on him for his release...and with only an elvish dagger? Here Bofur grimaced. Maybe Bilbo wasn't in the best position...yet.  
The ear-shattering death cries of the spiders continued to encourage Bofur, and he had no doubt he would be free soon from the webs...and he better be, otherwise he would suffocate, he thought.

After a few minutes he felt pressure somewhere on the web, and Bofur smiled at the sound of another high-pitched scream and a plop on the ground. Now something else climbed the web, and Bofur greatly hoped Bilbo would free him first. He frowned instead when he heard a cocoon falling on the ground, and the subsequent moan of whoever had been freed relieved Bofur at least a bit. If he wasn't wrong, that was Fíli and not Kíli.  
He could hear Fíli's complaints and groan as Bilbo proceeded to tear away the webs from him, and even managed a laugh when he heard Bilbo say: "Hold still, I have to cut some of your hair and beard off."

Finally, when Fíli's gasps for breath had subsided, and could stand (according to what Bilbo was saying), they began to climb the web. Bofur tried to call out to them again, but it only came out as a faint wail to them. Instead, he grumbled with envy as another pod fell to the ground, and after he heard the shell stripped away he could hear Bifur's indignant khûzdul to them. As Bofur listened closely, he roughly translated it to: "The axe cut the web and I had some air." The rest was too muffled to listen, but Bofur sighed in relief at his brother's good luck.  
"Was that a sigh from that pod over to the right?" Bofur could hear Fíli wonder, and Bofur wriggled in answer.

"Yes it was," declared Bilbo. "Cut him loose, Fíli, and, yes, thank you, Bifur: we'll give Bofur his hat as soon as he is free." His hat!

Fíli was incredibly indelicate at the job; all he did was cut the rope above and let the capsule fall. Bofur grunted at the sharp impact upon collision, but at least Bilbo was there ready with his dagger to open him up.

Bofur gasped for air as soon as it rent, and looked at Bilbo in wonder. He looked nothing like when they had been languishing in the forest, ready to die of starvation. He looked fierce and bold with only a black-stained blade beside him. Bofur groaned as he stood up with difficulty.

"At least he can move," remarked Fíli, coming into view. He looked grim and angry, and most of his beard and some of his hair had been sheared off by Bilbo.

Bofur managed a frail chuckle. "Well, you look like a sheared sheep."

Fíli looked unamused, and instead pointed to the nearest and thinnest bundle of them. Now Bofur (after having rubbed his eyes vigorously) could easily the network of nine other cocoons tied to the web. They seemed to be in a particularly bright part of the forest: the trees were beginning to look green and they were under a slightly lit glade where the spiders had put them to hang.

Fíli climbed the tree nearest to the pod he had pointed at, and sawed at the connections with the web. Down came the next dwarf, but he made no sound at his impact.  
"Why is he not conscious? You all were," pointed out Bilbo as he walked toward the silent one, and as he cut it open you could see the mortally pale face of Kíli, whose eyes were just beginning to flutter.

Fíli ran towards him. "Kíli! What's wrong with him?" he called out.

Kíli managed to sit up very feebly, and brought his hand to his forehead in confusion. He turned around sharply, and Bofur winced in sympathy as he vomited a frothy white liquid with a weak retching.

"He was probably more poisoned than you," deduced Bilbo. "Go on, Fíli, you too, Bofur: you can cut the rest loose now," he ordered with an authoritative tone Bofur would have never known as his, and Fíli gave him one of his swords for him to begin.

Fíli released Dori (who had to catch his breath because of the stuffiness in his shell) and Bofur let out Nori, who was more or less fine except he couldn't stand for more than a few instants, and then wobbled to the floor. By this time Kíli was much improved, and except for a slight dizziness could manage standing up. Bifur had raided the spider's empty nests and had found one or two useful objects: a few swords and spears of theirs, Kíli's bow with a few stray elf arrows, Ori's slingshot, and most important, Bofur's hat, which he put on gladly once it was handed to him. Then he climbed the nearest tree to Bombur's pod, which he loosened by throwing his knife expertly at the chord that kept it up. Although Bombur let out a surprised yelp when he fell, he made no attempt to get up. Bofur chuckled and walked over to him to cut the webs apart with the knife he picked up from the ground.

But the spiders had to return some time, and when the grisly spider laughter returned, everyone was suddenly nervous. Bofur looked around. They weren't ready yet! There was still Balin, Ori, Óin, Glóin and Dwalin-they could use their general now-to free from their cocoons!  
The spiders cursed Bilbo and threatened him angrily, but weren't looking the least afraid. He motioned the rest to keep freeing the others, and although Bofur glanced at his brother in regret he ran and climbed his tree, followed by Dori and Nori, to cut the others loose. He went to the seemingly largest-Dwalin-which was kicking restlessly to get off, and winced when he cut the restraining web that held Dwalin up. Nori cut Óin and Glóin free both in a few moments, and Fíli released Balin almost as quickly. Dori, instead, when he cut off Ori, looked terrified when he made no noise as he fell.

Then Bombur began to scream and flail around when more spiders cornered him and tried to tie him up again, but Bilbo took care of them in the blink of an eye.  
Bilbo yelled at the dwarves to come down, and Bofur was only too happy to oblige, as he scrambled off with Dori, Nori, Fíli and Kíli. They all took up the weapons Bifur had given them, and were cutting the others open quickly.  
Bombur needed both his and Bifur's help, much to his annoyance, but he wasn't the real problem. Dori was trying to bring Ori around unsuccessfully: and cried out to Óin to help as the rest started to fend the spiders off with whatever they had.

As much as he missed his mattock, Bofur was glad to have a real weapon in his hand instead of sticks and stones. Dwalin roared in rage and taunted the spiders to dare come near him. Luckily, the spiders couldn't take his war hammer from him, which he wielded menacingly. The others bellowed just as furiously to challenge them, and they attacked.

At least three spiders came his way, which he cut through and wounded with ferocity, and stabbed a fourth to death in an instant. Bombur was beginning to reign himself in and took care of a spider behind him with an enormous branch he had lifted off the floor.  
But when a particularly enormous spider leaped at them, a stone hit it from behind Bofur and Bombur, and it screeched and plummeted on the ground before them. They turned and looked in surprise at the one who had cast the stone-Ori, who had somehow regained consciousness during the battle, and now wielded both his slingshot and a large stone for any spider.

But no matter how fiercely they fought, there seemed to be too many spiders for any of them to take, and they were now weaving webs to pen them in the glade they fought in.  
Bilbo turned to them, and in a quick whisper, said to them, "I am going to disappear. I shall draw the spiders off, if I can, and you must keep together and make in the opposite direction. To the left there, that is more or less the way towards the place where we last saw the elf-fires."

"You WHAT?" shouted out Bofur, busy slashing through a small but too nimble spider. He was more muddled by the venom that he thought, and he could barely understand the burglar.  
But Bilbo looked at the end of his rope, and from his pocket pulled out a gold ring that seemed to shimmer even here where little light came through, and then vanished.  
The dwarves began to call out, completely dumbfounded, to Bilbo. Balin, however, was more levelheaded than the rest; and when he began listening to Bilbo's cries of "Lazy Lob" and "Attercop" he pointed at the left side of their pen, and they all attacked the spiders in that direction.

They were running too slowly, though. Even Bofur had to stop and catch his breath for a moment, only to be terrified at the sight of the spiders that were gaining on them. Kíli tried to shoot them and failed: being much too confused by the venom to take proper aim. But sooner or later they had to keep running. They were too tired, thought Bofur pessimistically. Everyone was famished, poisoned and stiff. They couldn't outrun at least fifty spiders anxious for food and revenge. Just when Bofur was about to fall to his knees, and Kíli threw another arrow that misfired, Bilbo's voice popped up behind them.

"Go on, go on! I will do the stinging!"

Bofur was still mystified by Bilbo's strange invisibility, but he instantly found the strenght to dash on to the clearing-there! The clearing where the elves had feasted in was there, sunlit and perfect. Why had they disappeared when they had approached before? What guarantee was there that the clearing itself wouldn't disappear again? But when he turned his head for a single glimpse at the spiders, hissing and spitting furiously, and falling to the blade of an invisible Bilbo, he immediately strengthened himself to keep running with all the energy he could, and even caught hold of Bombur when he was about to fall. Bombur, now aided by Bofur, ran for dear life never looking back.

Finally, Balin entered the threshold at the head of the dwarves, and the rest followed eagerly into the sunlit circle, Dori having to pull Ori inside after being at the back of the crowd. But the spiders would not continue and instead sulked and hissed angrily. More spiders were invisibly wounded and killed, and the rest had no choice but to flee at the blade that cut them and the good magic that lingered in their little circle. One by one, they proceeded to flee desperately and crying out curses at the stinging fly that had evaded them so cleverly.

Every stopped to catch their breath. They were all in terrible shape. The least affected (Óin, Balin, Fíli, Dwalin and him) stopped for only a minute. Nori, Dori, Bifur and Bombur collapsed from the exhaustion only. Glóin vomited at the edge of their ring, being one of the most poisoned, and Kíli fell dead faint on the floor a few moments after their victory over the spiders. Ori just sat down, trembling, shocked at what they had just been through.

Finally, the figure of Bilbo emerged from the darkness, having taken off his ring, and Balin pounced on him immediately over the ring.

"Mr. Baggins, I think you owe us an explanation about this entire disappearing business..."

"Oh, all right!" he interrupted him in a most disrespectful manner, when he used to be so polite. "I really didn't have any reason to tell you before, and I've done nothing wrong."

"You've done wrong in not telling us," rumbled Dwalin darkly to the hobbit.

"Well, yes, maybe I have. Just let me explain a bit. When I stayed back at the goblins..."

"When you scurried away in betrayal, you mean," remarked Nori with a glare.

"No! Don't interrupt!" said Bilbo angrily, and Bofur was surprised at the hobbit's ire. "I stayed behind for a moment, and I was determined to follow you, but a goblin caught me and I had to fight him or I would have been brought with you. We fell somewhere in the crags of the mountain, below the bridge we crossed, and I lost consciousness for a moment."

"Yes, yes, yes. You didn't have the ring before that?" prompted Balin.

"I didn't. Let me continue. So I woke up in the darkness with only the unconscious goblin and my sword, and then...a most curious creature came out of the darkness. It wasn't of any race I could recognize, but it seemed hobbit-like, pale, bony, and forlorn. Anyway, I hid behind some rocks when it crawled towards the goblin, and attacked it with a rock and knocked it out again. Out of the pockets of the rags the thing was wearing came out this." And by then he showed out the ring, and they all stared in amazement. Being dwarves, they appreciated smithing in all its forms, and the ring was particularly rare and beautiful. The only three that seemed uncomfortable, for some reason, were Ori, Fíli and Kíli. They exchanged alarmed glance and continued admiring the ring.

"He didn't realize it, and dragged the goblin away. Here I inspected were I was in...There was an underground lake, and the creature hauled it unto his little coracle and pushed it and him away to a small island in the middle of the pond, where the goblin came back again and the creature killed it with another large rock. I tried to look for any exit, but the creature was chasing me before I knew it. It kept muttering about whether I would be good to eat, and although it didn't look very strong, I had seen it was vicious. So I kept him at bay with my sword on its throat, and it spoke to itself with the queerest habit of calling himself...Gollum. So that must have been his name.

"Its more playful side asked for a game, and before his nastier side took over and tried to kill me I insisted we played a game of riddles. After having beaten him fairly Gollum was no pleased or satisfied by the game or by losing, so it tried to attack me more than once with stones. Finally, I had one more question for him. I was fingering my pocket, thinking up a riddle when I asked to it, 'What have I got in my pocket?'

"He was enraged, of course, not being a proper question for a riddles game, but I gave it three tries, and failing all of them it reached for the ring, now I know that he was going to try and become invisible to murder me, but he couldn't find it. I tried to get away but it realized what had happened and ran after me, calling for the ring his 'precious'.

"I looked around for an exit desperately, and after Gollum having lost sight of me for a moment I wriggled into a crack that seemed to be large enough for me, but I was stuck in the middle and after squirming a lot and Gollum having found me I got through to the other side, all my brass buttons spilling on the floor. I explored the remaining caves before Gollum could get in, but when he did I tripped and...and put it on.

"I didn't realize at first I was invisible. I just ran through the caves, praying Gollum wouldn't look at me, and I was mystified when it didn't. It took some time before one of the openings of the caves was suddenly streaming with sunlight, and then I could see you all running, with Gandalf at your head. I simply ran past Gollum, him not realizing where I was, and I followed you out. I decided to keep the ring on just in case, and I heard all of your comments on me."

"That was Thorin," protested Dori from the sides, but looking very curious about the story.

"Well, that is it. I took off the ring and surprised you all, and then the Wargs and Agog chased us down. I never used the ring again simply because there was no need to," concluded Bilbo, sitting down and catching his breath.

Bofur was amazed with this tale, and Balin began to press him on for details about the riddles and all, but Bofur was not interested in this. Instead, he looked at young Ori and Fíli and Kíli, who were talking in quiet whispers of something, and after that little display of the talk of the ring Bofur was determined to find out what they were speaking of.

"Was that _the_ ring, Ori?" Fíli was murmuring solemnly.

"It was. I am sure," he answered just as gravely, looking at Bilbo in wonder. Bofur approached him from behind, trying to spook him for a moment.

_"Which_ ring?" he mumbled to him, and Ori's eyes widened. Kíli glared at him.

"That's none of your business, Bofur," Kíli replied, his tone threatening. Ori looked nervous.

"Why so aggressive?" he protested with his palms up, quieter than he had ever been before.

"Because you don't need to know."

"Does he need to know, Ori?" asked Fíli to Ori, who looked hesitant at his words.

"Well...now he does," he decided. He turned around suspiciously no one else could hear him. "I have been having these dreams," he began uncertainly, but then Kíli cut in.

"Premonitions," he said succinctly to Bofur, and Ori shushed him.

Bofur laughed. "You're not being serious, are you lad? Premonitions are too rare, and they are of the Elves, and some men. No one knows what will come to pass, and no dwarf will ever even get the chance," he said. "And why have you told only these two?"

"And Thorin," objected Ori. "Although he didn't take them seriously, even though I described an old enemy of his when I have never seen him, or even heard his description."

"Whom?"

"Thranduil to Elvenking of Mirkwood," explained Fíli. "You haven't had any more, now, have you?" Ori looked at the ground once again at the suggestion.

"Yes. Two of them. One of them is irrelevant and I don't even know if it was a premonition, although it was incredibly vivid, like the other one I had. But while I was under the spider venom influence I...I had another one. Just as clear as the other ones. And Bofur was in it."

"Was I now?" Bofur wasn't taking the young one's words seriously. It seemed like a writer's flight of fancy, truly. It was his duty to gently bring him back to reality.

"Bofur, this is serious," chided Fíli, looking absolutely certain of it.

"You two are Thorin's heirs. You should be ashamed of believing such a tale. Ori, no offense, but this is just not possible."

Ori looked like he regretted saying anything, and turned away. At his disappointment Bofur stopped him, and brought him face to face. "Just, what was that premonition about?"

"We were at the Mountain."

"Yes?"

"You and Bombur were in a rocky gorge or valley, and there was a rope that led up but you stayed there with supplies and ponies while the rest were up. And then the dragon came."

Just what he thought. Childish nightmares. "Ori, you know that could have been a mere bad dream. You know, it could have been because of the spider's poison," he explained carefully to him, and Ori shook his head.

* * *

_Tauriel inspected the barrels happily, and looked at the elf beside her, imploring for something._

_"These are the ones only for the king's table? What I would give for a taste of one of these!" She spoke in Sindarin, which Ori knew proficiently, and he could understand most of her words._

_Her companion wore embellished and fine clothes, so he was obviously one of high rank or similar. Barrels were stacked everywhere in the caver they stood in. The other elf looked as excited as she was, and groped the barrel before them fondly._

_"As silly as the Lake-men are, they are excellent at the making of his wine, and I've chosen the perfect one for the king's feast for tonight. But you needn't worry, Tauriel. Wouldn't Legolas grant you a little taste of his wine at the feast? But you're Captain of the Guards. You can't get in for a little drink. And after all, Thranduil dislikes you, since you spend so much time frolicking with him in the forest."_

_"I don't 'frolic'!" she replied, although not very angrily. They seemed to be good friends._

_"But after all, you have a new admirer, do you not?" the other elf teased her._

_Tauriel now darkened visibly, and turned to look at her friend. "Who told you of this, Galion?"_

_Galion now seemed slightly anxious to leave her alone. "No one. Just a guard."_

_"It isn't funny, Galion," she grumbled, and turned her attention to a cup placed on a table stacked with more barrels full of wine. "What else do you know?"_

_"Tauriel, I don't know-"_

_"What else do you know?" she repeated once again, louder than before._

_Galion sighed. "Not much. I was just told that the dwarf complimented you when you drove him into his cell. The beardless archer dwarf, as it were," he added, joshing once again._

_"He's irritating," she said icily, but then she lifted the goblet and looked at the barrel in question again. "Are you sure you won't even consider a goblet or two for me, Galion?" she begged._

_Galion laughed. "Just tell me about the dwarf, and I will."_

_"After the wine," growled Tauriel, and she offered him another goblet. "You drink the king's reserve by yourself, why not are generous and give me a cup or two?"_

_Galion chuckled and took one of them, filling it with the dark-red rich wine. "Here From the south of Dorwinion, said to be legendary at giving sleep," he laughed._

_Tauriel rolled her eyes merrily as she snatched the cup and drank once; breathing deeply once she had put the cup away from her lips. "Oh, it's so strong."_

_Galion took the other one and filled himself another cup. "So, about the dwarf...?"_

_Tauriel glared at him. "You knew I wasn't going to speak of that," she answered bluntly, and emptied her cup eagerly with a single gulp. Galion laughed._

_"Oh, you will," he teased her. "You're not upholding your side of the bargain. And anyway, we could both have our positions taken away if we are caught, especially when you are on duty."_

_"Are you trying to convince me to leave?" she said saucily, and helped herself again._

_"No, no! I'm only saying it's fair that I get what I want; I won't tell anyone else!" he pleaded._

_"So only this guard knew?" she relented. "I don't know how Legolas found out, though. Well, I do, but my lips are sealed," she asked evasively, taking another dangerously large sip._

_"The guard told me, I don't know if he's told anyone else," answered Galion sincerely, taking another drink, and flushing. "This wine _is _sublime. Care for more?"_

_"Of course, Galion," she said smoothly. Her cup was empty again._

_"Well, I want word for word of the first time," giggled Galion. "And has he spoken to you again?" He offered her the cup._

_"He's talked to me four times. I didn't pay a single speck of attention in any of them," said Tauriel, tossing her hair and then drinking again. "Word for word? My memory doesn't reach that far," she said playfully, helping herself with more when it was only half empty._

_"Oh, what did he say, at least?"_

_"Oh, he told me I was brave and bold and fierce and then he said my hair was sunlit red-when everyone perfectly knows it's reddish brown-and then he said that I was good at wielding a bow. What sort of compliment is that, may I ask?" she blurted out happily._

_"That's ridiculous. Did you answer?" Galion helped himself generously._

_"No. Why would I? And it must have been too much spider's venom, because he had the sense of not saying anything pathetic and romantic the next time I saw him. He asked me if I would be kind enough to tell him if Thorin Oakenshield was in the dungeons with them."_

_Galion lifted an eyebrow. "If you had that would have been treason."_

_"So I did not," she replied. "I asked him if why was he a beardless dwarf."_

_Galion laughed raucously at her words. "Was he very insulted?"_

_"Oh, he wasn't extremely offended, but he did mumble out something about him being the youngest. Wonder exactly how many decades old my suitor is," she taunted at the ceiling._

_"Your _suitor_?" enounced Galion carefully._

_"My _unwilling dwarven admirer_," she corrected herself after Galion pointed it out. "It must have been because of the archery. You know, a beard can get in the way, and he was the only one of the thirteen with a bow."_

_"Thirteen?"_

_"Twelve. I was counting Thorin among them," she said. "Anyways, that was the second time. The third time, he didn't speak to me. I heard him speak about me to the empty cell. Something about whether I was the elf in a sort of vision...I cannot recall. Then he told himself that he was looking forward to Laketown or the sort, and I walked in with his food and replied that he would never see Laketown unless he told the king what his business was in these parts."_

_"He did not give in," observed Galion dully._

_"No, indeed not. He was furious at the offer and said he would never speak of it or to me again. Of course he didn't," she laughed. "I am much too beautiful to be ignored."_

_"What of the fourth time?" _

_"Always so inquisitive Galion," she said. "The fourth time he was reciting the story of Lúthien and Beren, of all stories! He must be really pining for me," she said, pleased at this thought._

_"So you burst in and interrupted him and laughed."_

_"No, actually, I just gave him his food, and then he asked if I was of royal blood. He must have thought I was royal. How flattering, although being related to Thranduil wouldn't be very pleasing at all... Then I gave him his food. He was silent after I said no, and then said that we had no quarrel, that he would treasure at least my cordiality. Rubbish."_

_"Rubbish it is," agreed Galion, and offered to refill her goblet again. "Not this wine, though, this is as you said perfect and sublime."_

_Tauriel had drifted into a thoughtful mood, yet handed him her cup when he offered, then shook off her thoughts. "Of course it is!" she cheered._

* * *

**Well, what do you know? I felt like doing 5k+ on the spiders. I hope you like this chapter, all you awesome readers and followers. Even though you aren't many, you make me keep writing.**


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